


living on your own time

by starlight_sugar



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: “Mr. Kerchev is just married, and there’s nothing more that newlyweds love on honeymoons than other newlyweds to show off in front of.” Kepler arches an eyebrow, presumably to let everyone absorb that.





	living on your own time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the AUcember series, a self-made challenge where I try to write a new AU one-shot every day. You can read all of the AUcember fics in the collection linked above.
> 
> This one was actually written several months ago, and it was intended to be the opening scene of a much longer fic. Jury's still out on whether or not I'll ever actually finish the full story, but I liked this opening enough that I spent my day editing and reworking it for public consumption. So... here we go!
> 
> The title of this fic comes from [Do You Love Someone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4jYyUCqUOk) by Grouplove.

“Ladies, gentlemen.” Kepler looks around the room. “What do you know about the Ukrainian mob? And Agent Eiffel, don’t say that you know they’re from Ukraine.”

Eiffel closes his mouth just long enough to frown. “That’s a legitimate piece of knowledge, sir, I think it’s to my credit that I-  _ ow. _ ”

“Whoops,” Hera says cheerfully, and lifts her heel so it’s not crushing Eiffel’s big toe anymore. She’s smiling, which is the worst part. Smiling like she knows that she’s embarrassing him in a mission briefing. Smiling like she doesn’t care, which is even worse. It’s the ultimate betrayal.

Kepler doesn’t even acknowledge them. Consummate professional, that guy. “Of course, we have local mob chapters all over the country, but the main boss-”

“-is in Ukraine,” Eiffel finishes triumphantly, but this time it’s Minkowski who elbows him in the ribs. “Hey!”

“Time and a place,” Lovelace says mildly, from where she’s practically draped over one of Maxwell’s fancy touch-screen computer tables. Which is totally unfair, because if it were Eiffel, Maxwell would’ve pushed him on the floor by now.

“The time is now!” Eiffel protests. “We’re talking about the Ukrainian mob! There’s no better time!”

“I can duct tape his mouth shut if you want,” Jacobi offers, which, again, definitely unfair. If Eiffel said something about duct taping Jacobi’s mouth shut, Hera would make fun of him for having an oral fixation, and Kepler definitely wouldn’t make a face like he’s considering it. Eiffel tries to glare, but Jacobi just sort of smirks at him. “Solve a couple problems.”

After a couple seconds, Kepler sighs. “Just keep poking at him until he stops trying?”

Eiffel rolls his eyes, but Minkowski and Hera both say “yes, sir” in eerie unison, so it must not be worth the effort of arguing.

“Good,” Kepler says. “The Ukrainian mob - which is based in Ukraine, thank you, Agent Eiffel - is helmed by this man.” Maxwell, standing at Kepler’s side, hits a button, and a couple of images pop up on the massive display screen. It’s a blond white guy, early thirties, with that creepy dead-eyed stare that most mob bosses have. “Mr. Yevgeni Kerchev, who likes to cause a lot of trouble by dealing arms.”

“Seems young,” Lovelace says, propping her chin up on one palm. Her eyes narrow. “Let me guess, inherited?”

“Correct, Agent Lovelace.” Maxwell hits another button, and another image comes up, this time a family photo. “Here we have Mr. Kerchev, with his recently deceased father Piotr and his missing-in-action brother Viktor. This is all speculation, of course, but we’re pretty sure that Yevgeni killed both his father and his brother in order to take over the operation.”

“Mr. Kerchev is on watchlists all over the country. CIA, FBI, NSA, anything with three letters. Hell, the EPA probably has it out for him.” Kepler’s eyes sharpen. “He’s also stolen proprietary Goddard tech to redistribute.”

Hera whistles lowly. “I didn’t know you  _ could _ steal from Goddard.”

“Generally, you can’t.” Jacobi frowns at the screen, eyes narrowing. “How’d he get away with it?”

“Mob connections, probably.” Maxwell’s mouth twitches. “Probably went all Godfather on some employee.”

Eiffel jolts upright, a slow grin already spreading across his face. “They made someone an offer they couldn’t refuse?”

Jacobi glares at Maxwell, who already looks sheepish. “You had to enable him?”

“Oh, don’t hold out on me now, Doctor.” Eiffel clasps his hands together. “Please, tell me more about Mr. Kerchev sneaking a horse’s head into Rachel Young’s bed.”

“You had to enable him,” Kepler repeats heavily, and this time Maxwell shrugs. “Fine. The point is, our goal is to bring Kerchev in as soon as possible. And luckily for us, it looks like we have an opportunity.”

“Wedding bells are ringing for Mr. Kerchev.” Maxwell hits another button, and a few more pictures pop up, all of Yevgeni Kerchev with a pretty blonde woman. “Meet Natalie Delight, and yes, that’s her real last name.”

“The YouTuber?” Minkowski says dubiously.

“Who taught you what YouTube is?” Eiffel demands. He recognizes her, now that he has a career to put to the face. “Hera, did you-”

“Me, actually,” Lovelace drawls, looking immensely pleased with herself. “Someone’s got to teach our good commander how to entertain herself online.”

“Remember before we worked with them?” Maxwell sighs, slanting a longing look at Jacobi. Even Kepler looks a little wistful, which hurts maybe more than it should. “Back in the good old days, when we would’ve been done with the mission briefing by now.”

“Already be on the next flight to Ukraine,” Jacobi mumbles.

“Not Ukraine,” Kepler says. “If you all don’t mind terribly, I’d like to get you sent on your merry way, so if you could let Dr. Maxwell and I finish with your mission briefing-”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Eiffel says, and doesn’t even protest when Hera lifts a hand to close her fingers over his mouth. He doesn’t even lick her palm, because that’s the kind of chivalrous guy and good employee that Doug Eiffel is.

“Go on, sir,” Hera says, and lifts her other hand to cover the first for good measure.

Kepler doesn’t smile, but Eiffel kind of gets the impression that he’s pleased anyways. “Natalie Delight has just married Yevgeni Kerchev, and they’re going on a honeymoon. South of France, lovely spa resort, vineyard attached, very remote. They’ll be there for ten days, and that’s ten whole days where Kerchev will be out in the open for us to find.”

Minkowski leans forward. “Sir, is this an assassination or an extraction?”

“Extraction, if possible. We don’t know what Kerchev did with the weapons he stole from Goddard, and we want them back.”

“Extraction,” Lovelace repeats. “Undercover?”

“Undercover. Mr. Kerchev is just married, and there’s nothing more that newlyweds love on honeymoons than other newlyweds to show off in front of.” Kepler arches an eyebrow, presumably to let everyone absorb that.

Eiffel glances around the room. If they need newlyweds, then they need two people. Hera never goes on missions, by virtue of technically not being trained for that, and with something this secretive Kepler will probably want Maxwell to stay in Canaveral.

And of course, SI-5 mission assignments are always… erratic, to say the least. Eiffel’s not really trained for any of this, but he’s still gone undercover more than once, so there’s a good chance that he’ll be going again. As far as partners go, Minkowski’s kind of an awful liar and Jacobi is about as subtle as a flaming sledgehammer, so that leaves…

“Dibs on Lovelace,” Eiffel says, even though it’s muffled by both of Hera’s hands. She grimaces, but digs her fingers into his cheek and holds on. “Hey!”

Kepler arches an eyebrow. “Something you want to share with the class, Agent Eiffel?”

Hera reluctantly pulls her hands away, and Eiffel grins. “Dibs on Lovelace?”

“It’s cute that you think it’s your choice,” Maxwell says, “but yes, that’s the plan. You and Agent Lovelace will be going undercover as newlyweds honeymooning at this resort.”

Eiffel grins over at Lovelace, who smiles back at him, looking pleased. Sure, everyone on this team likes to act like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and sure, they’re normally right. But something about working with Lovelace makes him better at his job. Probably something to do with them actually being friends.

“What do you say, Isabel?” Eiffel wiggles his eyebrows, and she rolls her eyes at him. “Wanna get hitched?”

“Mm, I think I’m the one who proposed.” Lovelace glances at Hera. “Can we make that official?”

“I can make that official,” Hera says, because she is Eiffel’s best friend, and by extension his greatest enemy. “Congratulations on the engagement. And the wedding. I was Eiffel’s best man, of course.”

Eiffel beams at her. “Aw, baby, you know I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

Maxwell clears her throat, and all eyes go to her. She looks excited. Unnervingly so. “Sir?”

“Because this is such a high-priority mission, we need as many agents as possible in the field.” Kepler inclines his head. “Hera, obviously, you’re staying here with me, and Maxwell is staying because she has more than enough other projects to work on. So Jacobi, Minkowski, mazel tov.”

“No,” Jacobi says sharply. “No, sir, you can’t-”

“I’m going to have to object too,” Minkowski says, looking a little green around the gills. “You don’t mean-”

“I do mean.” Kepler fixes Minkowski with a placid look, and Maxwell has to hide her smile behind her remote. “Jacobi, Minkowski, the two of you will be going undercover with Eiffel and Lovelace. This is too serious to let go because you two are squeamish about it, do you understand?”

“Colonel,” Eiffel breathes, “it’s not even my birthday and you’ve given me the greatest gift of all.” Minkowski glares at him, but Eiffel can’t even bring himself to care. This is it. He’s died and gone to heaven, which must be real after all, because now he gets to watch Minkowski and Jacobi have to act like people. People in love. People in love  _ with each other. _ “Hera, am I dreaming?”

“Maybe,” Hera whispers back. “But probably not.”

“Why do I have to be with Minkowski?” Jacobi demands. “Why can’t I be with Lovelace?”

“Eiffel called dibs,” Maxwell says, which is completely true. Eiffel knew he liked her for a reason. Maxwell is Eiffel’s favorite now. “That, and we’re pretty sure she’s the least likely to go stir crazy and kill him while you’re living together for ten days.”

“Minkowski’s really not my type. And for that matter, neither is Lovelace.”

“Do you want to be married to Eiffel for a week and a half?”

Eiffel carefully looks just over Jacobi’s shoulder, so it doesn’t look like he’s invested in hearing the answer. Because that would be desperate, and Eiffel isn’t desperate.

“Maybe Minkowski won’t be so bad,” Jacobi allows grudgingly, and Eiffel doesn’t let his face fall. He refuses. Hera bumps her hip against Eiffel’s, and he bumps her back, because there’s not much else to do in a moment like this.

“If only so Eiffel doesn’t die,” Minkowski agrees. Eiffel rolls his eyes. One of these days, these people are going to get tired of giving him shit. It hasn’t happened yet, but it has to one day.

“Congratulations on your vows,” Kepler says, with all of the infinite patience of someone who is very, very close to snapping at them all. “Eiffel, Lovelace, you’re our A-team on this. You’re going to make sure Kerchev is complacent and comfortable and having the time of his life, do you understand?”

“Yessir,” Eiffel says quickly, and Lovelace nods.

“Minkowski, Jacobi, you’re backup. You only contact Kerchev and Delight through Eiffel and Lovelace, never directly. You are there for intelligence, and you are there to make sure things don’t go wrong. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Jacobi grits out. If nothing else, Eiffel can appreciate the fun shade of puce that his face is turning right now.

“Excellent.” And just like that, the vein bulging in Kepler’s neck goes from “meltdown imminent” to “meltdown might be happening next Thursday.” Eiffel barely avoids sighing in relief. “You’re leaving for your honeymoon bright and early tomorrow morning, so get packed. Maxwell already emailed out your supply lists, and we’ll have some waiting for you once you get to France. Remember, you have ten days.”

“It’ll only take four,” Jacobi promises. Minkowski mutters something in agreement.

“Eiffel’s going to help me review comm devices,” Hera announces, and grabs him by the elbow. For such a tiny woman, she has hands of iron. It’s one of the things he loves about her, although maybe not in this moment. “Right, Doug?”

“Right,” Eiffel says, because he’s not about to argue with Hera about this. “Colonel, permission to check up on the comms array?”

Kepler nods. “Dismissed, both of you. Make sure you have something that’ll work well long-distance. You never know what kind of situations you’ll run into.”

Eiffel flicks off a quick salute before Hera starts tugging him towards the door. “Hey, Lovelace, wanna go ring shopping later?”

“I’d rather shave my legs with a potato peeler,” Lovelace answers blithely, ignoring Eiffel’s full-body shudder, because  _ ew. _ “Goddard’ll have rings for us, right? We kind of need them.”

“We have a selection of standard-issue fake wedding rings,” Maxwell confirms, which is maybe the strangest sentence that Eiffel has ever heard come out of her mouth. She’s starting to say something else when Hera drags Eiffel out of the room and shuts the door behind her.

“Well,” Eiffel says slowly. He gets the feeling that he’s missing something here. “Comms room?”

“Comms room,” Hera agrees. “Great place to avoid being overheard.” She starts down the hall, moving so fast that it takes Eiffel aback.

He waits until he pulls the comms room door closed to look at Hera. “What?”

“What, me?” Hera frowns. “How about what, you?”

“What me?”

“Jacobi?”

Eiffel grimaces. “Yeah, that wasn’t the best.”

“That was totally unfair of him,” Hera says nobly, which, okay, that might not be true. Eiffel doesn’t have the best track record with undercover missions, but Hera probably doesn’t care about that. She’s definitely the best friend that Eiffel has ever had: she’s smart as a whip, she’s a good listener, and she is completely devoted to defending his honor even when he doesn’t deserve it.

“Maybe,” Eiffel hedges, but apparently that’s not enough, because she glares at him. “What? The guy’s allowed to not want to marry me for the sake of taking down a Serbian mobster-”

“Ukrainian.”

“Don’t tell Kepler I said that.”

“After your whole ‘I know he’s from Ukraine’ bit?” Hera snorts.

Eiffel winces. “Not my finest moment.”

He’s never going to admit it to anyone other than Hera, who already knows all his darkest secrets, but he kind of wants Kepler to like him. It’s partly a self preservation thing, because he gets the impression that people Kepler doesn’t like go away and are never heard from again. But it’s also because he’s pretty sure everyone else on the team likes him. Even if it’s the awkward, begrudging kind of liking that people start out with, they still like him. Kepler doesn’t seem to like anyone, but Eiffel’s going to try his best anyways. Because that’s what doing his job is all about. Or something.

Hera waves him off. “You’ll have another moment soon, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She flashes a smile at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay, we actually do need to do our jobs-”

“Do we?”

“Yes, Douglas, so pick a comms array for when you head off to France.”

“Alright, geez.” Hera only calls him Douglas when she’s patronizing him, or as a codeword something’s gone horribly wrong. He’s actually not sure which one of those situations is happening right now. But he gives it a minute, just to feel it out. He starts going through their communications devices - they need something that prioritizes the short-range, but Kepler was right about the long-distance - and settles on one of the newer models, setting it on the table in the middle of the room. “Think these’ll work?”

Hera, who seems to be settled in staring at the door, doesn’t even look. “Mmmhm.”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“You don’t need me to tell you how to do your job, do you?”

Eiffel pauses. “Nnnnnnno?”

“Do you think those will work?”

He looks down at the case. “Probably?”

“Then they’re yours.”

“Hera, what’s-”

“Nothing!” Hera whirls around and slams her hands on the table. The comms room is small enough that the smack echoes, and Eiffel has to try not to flinch. “You know, maybe I’m trying to- to have your back on this whole Jacobi thing, which I still don’t get, by the way-”

“You don’t need to get it,” Eiffel mumbles, but shuts his mouth as soon as Hera’s eyes sharpen.

“Maybe I don’t need to get it, but I’m still trying to back you up with all this, and you don’t even seem bothered by it!” She folds her arms, and suddenly she looks far too small. “Maybe it’s bothering me, and I don’t know why it’s not bothering you that this is happening.”

Eiffel blinks. “This isn’t about Jacobi.”

She looks away, and Eiffel lets out a long breath. Of course it’s not about Jacobi. This is going to be the first time he’s going undercover since… since.

“Hera,” he says softly, and goes around the table so he’s closer to her. “All four of us are going to have a direct line to you and Alana the whole time.”

“The whole time,” Hera repeats, not quite mocking, and it feels like a fist wraps around Eiffel’s heart and squeezes. “Yeah, nothing’s gonna go wrong.”

Eiffel snorts. “Darlin’, something’s going to go wrong, and you and I both know it.”

She shoots a glare at him, which is completely undercut by how watery her eyes are. “Then why aren’t you worried?”

“Because I’m going to spend the whole time partnered up with Isabel, who’s one of the best people to have in a crisis. And Minkowski and Jacobi are going to be there, and they’re the best backup. And best of all-” he reaches out and rests his hands on her shoulders, as lightly as he can, and she relaxes into it - “you’re gonna be in my ear making sure that I don’t do anything too stupid.”

“You’d better not.”

“I’ll try my best.” Eiffel grins. “I’ll call you every night.”

Hera’s face relaxes into a smile, and Eiffel’s lungs collapse with relief. “You think your wife’s going to like that?”

“You know, I get this funny feeling that she’ll understand.”

“Every night,” she says seriously. “Last thing before you go to bed, no matter how late it is.”

“What’s the time difference between Canaveral and France?”

“Enough that you’ll be calling me and the other way around.”

Eiffel smiles and squeezes Hera’s shoulders. “Every night and twice on weekends.”

“Good,” Hera says, and steps forward to bury her face in the crook of Eiffel’s neck. “Come back.”

“I will.”

“Without the bad parts this time.”

“I will,” Eiffel repeats, and hopes more than anything that it’s not an empty promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I want it on the record: even if you can't tell it from the opening scene, if this becomes a longer thing, there is Minkowski/Lovelace. There just is.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr and Twitter @waveridden!


End file.
